What it takes to rule the seven seas
by SilentVocaloid
Summary: Pirate AU – The 18th century world was a very dangerous place to be, especially when you sailed the seas. Loki and Thor are having a hard enough time learning the ways of piracy; until they meet two crews of ruthless pirates who know what they're doing that will either help their situation dearly, or completely shatter it. Undecided pairings - slash.
1. Three Ships

**Chapter one – Three Ships**

What would you say if you were stranded in the middle of the Indian Ocean?

Loki never really thought he'd ever have to think about the answer to that question, until now.

Now he knew _exactly_ what he'd say, as he was saying it right now.

"You _idiot!_ I let you navigate for an _hour_ while I go to have a sleep, and not only did you manage to sail us off course, you managed to get us _stranded _in the middle of a shark-infested ocean, and _endanger our very lives!_ Do you _realise_ that there're Indian pirates sailing around here hungry for European blood? They're pissed with the English, and they won't give a _damn_ where you come from, _they just want to kill you."_

Thor, Loki's brother and the idiot that'd managed to get their ship lost, sighed, holding up his hands, "I'm sorry, brother! I was holding the map upside-down…" he shrugged, and grinned goofily, "But hey! At least now we can have an adventure!"

Loki was too busy worrying about his own safety, "It's official. We're going to be killed by Indian pirates. We're going to be robbed, humiliated and finally ripped limb-from-limb and then _eaten_. There's a rumour about that, you know! They're meant to be _cannibals_. Brother, we're going to be _food!"_

"Captain, we could do with a little help over here…" Volstagg, one of the crew wondered over, wobbling a little as he went. Loki was sure Volstagg was the reason he was forever hungry, as the man was more than just 'thick boned' as he told everyone; he was massively overweight, though no one was really sure why, as there was never much food on the ship.

"I'll be over in a minute," Thor raised his hand up in recognition.

Loki narrowed his eyes, "Brother? Volstagg was talking to _the captain_ of this ship."

"Yes, and I am the captain," Thor answered, confused.

Laughing dryly, Loki cleared his throat a little, "I'm sorry? _You're_ the captain? I'm sure that _I_ was the captain of this ship, you know, seeing as father _clearly_ told the both of us on his deathbed that 'whoever was fit to rule the ship would be it's captain'."

"Oh, Loki, Loki, Loki," Thor chuckled extremely patronisingly, "I am the older brother – of course I'm fit to be captain of this ship! I can understand the admiration you must have for me, and one day _you will be as great as me!_ I know – it's hard to believe, isn't it? But never fear, brother, the days for you to be captain of the mighty Skidbladnir are yet to come – you have a lot to look forward to! But for the time being, you can just watch me do it."

"_For God's sake – you are not the captain of this ship! You got us lost in the middle of the Indian Ocean!"_ Loki was waving his hands around hysterically, his voice getting higher with frustration by the second, but was cut-across by Volstagg.

"Please, captain_s_, or _whoever_, just come and take a look at this. It looks to be quite urgent." The man insisted, straightening his sweaty bandana awkwardly as he watched Thor and Loki stare at each other, neither blinking. It almost looked like they were having a _staring contest_, for God's sake. Though soon Loki muttered curse words under his breath and stalked off below deck, telling Thor that if he fucked anything else up, then he'd be thrown overboard.

Loki was extremely pissed off. He decided just to sit in his hammock. Okay, it might be more than a little childish, but _fuck_ he was annoyed! He and Thor had been arguing over the position of captain of the Skidbladnir for over a year now, ever since their father's death. They'd been brought up on the waters, learning the ways of pirates, being taught from Odin, their father, among many other role models. Now though, with Loki only seventeen, and Thor only just twenty the two had been quite literally been thrown in their father's ship, and been told to 'go and find a crew, and get on with it'.

Whatever 'it' was, Loki wasn't too sure though he _was_ pretty sure he had a clearer idea than Thor. Loki had no idea what they were meant to do with the ship. It was a pirate ship, so that kind of implied that they should do pirate-esque things, though he had to admit that the crew of the Skidbladnir weren't exactly the best pirates in the world. They did a pretty good job of _looking _like pirates – Loki was extremely fond of his long, emerald green coat he'd managed to steal on one of their very rare, successful raids. He was also very fond of his hat, which had a huge, black feather sticking out of the top of it. Though other than their appearance, they really did suck at the pirate way of life.

For instance, every time they intended to raid a ship, Fandral always managed to chat up every woman he saw, usually ending up in the water, only to be pulled up by a rope thrown in for him by Loki. Volstagg was only interested in raiding people's kitchens and pantries, and never shared his food. As for Hogun, well, he was a pretty impressive swordsman, but with the distractions of Volstagg and Fandral he never really got around to slitting the opponent's throats, and always managed to get caught up in Volstagg and Fandral's idiotic, forever-failing strategies.

Now with those three idiots off the list of useful people, that only left Thor, Loki and Sif. Thor was extremely experienced with a sword, anyone could say that. He was just a little aimless where he swung it. Often when he engaged in 'battle' as he liked to call it, he just lost all control and hit anything that moved. It was quite an affective strategy to defeat the enemy, but it was quite dangerous if you stood near Thor, whether you were friend or foe. Loki remembered a number of times he'd almost been cut in two by his brother's blade.

Loki hated to admit it, but he was pretty much the opposite of his brother. Thor went into fight just being destructive, and not thinking about anything apart from destroying – Loki on the other hand usually spent more of his time planning the attack than actually carrying it out. He sighed to himself; he really sucked at the whole sword fighting thing, and couldn't fight for his life. He'd tried learning magic off a ship of gypsies they'd done trades with, and though he had managed to get a little spark or two to appear from the tips of his fingers, but that was about it.

As for Sif, well she was the only one who actually managed to _do_ anything of use. She was skilled with a sword, but she also had a head on her shoulders. She was like the perfect combination of Thor and Loki – the brains of the youngest and the strength of the oldest. Sadly, as good as Sif was, she could hardly take on an entire crew of angry pirates on her own, so usually the crew of the Skidbladnir ended up being chased off the ship they were meant to be invading, and back on to their own, sailing away as fast as the wind would carry them.

The jet-black-haired teenager sighed, pulling his legs up to his chest and gritting his teeth. They really needed to up their game if they ever wanted to be taken as serious pirates. They'd already ruined their reputation their father had gained; Odin had been ruler of the seas! Everyone had feared his name, so they figured that his sons would be just as ruthless. Sadly though that was very far from the truth. Maybe it would just be better for everyone if Indian pirates just came and ate them.

"Brother, I think we could do with a bit of help here…" Thor called from above, "Really… We need your straight thinking to get us out of this mess…"

Loki growled to himself. Thor had _complimented _him. God they must be in deep, _deep_ shit.

* * *

The date was 1757, and if you know your world history, then you know very well that this is probably not the best date you could choose to be alive. The world was in ruins at said time, as only a year previously; the begging of 'The Seven Years' War' broke out. Of course it wasn't called that then – they didn't know it was going to be a seven year span of bloodshed between world countries. To the citizens of the 18th century, The Seven Years' War was simply known as 'The War', which has a rather sinister feeling around it.

This is what Bruce Banner was trying to explain to Tony Stark.

"So how did the war start, Tony?" Bruce cradled his face in his hands, trying to stay as calm as he could. He'd been teaching Tony for hours, even though said pupil was only three years younger than himself.

"Because the British are bastards," Tony declared smoothly, biting on a nail absent mindedly.

Bruce sighed deeply, "Yes, we gathered that part. We all know that both you and Steve share a mutual hatred for the British Isles because they've 'taken the heart out of America' but really, you need to know about the war that is taking place around you at any moment!"

"Okay, Okay… So it has something to do with France…? And that other place that sounds like Russia…" Tony was straining his memory. At least he was _trying_.

"In May last year, Britain declared war against…?"

"France!"

"Yes! Finally! We're getting somewhere… _Thank God…" _Bruce nearly broke down crying, "And who are we allied with?"

"That Russia place that speaks German!" Tony stuck a finger in the air, pleased he knew the answer.

Bruce nodded, "_Prussia,_ Tony."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. And then France is allied with Russia and Austria, right?"

"Yes! I'm very glad you remembered, Tony. And where are the countries we want to avoid if we don't want to get caught up in a bloodbath?"

Tony thought for a second, and then recited as if remembering from one of Bruce's many 'revision sheets' that had been made for him, "Ehh… The places where Britain is fighting France are mainly… India?"

"Correct."

"… A-Africa?" Tony squinted as the word came very strained out of his throat, worried he was going to get it wrong.

"Very good!" Bruce clapped, "Give me two more, and then you can go and waste time somewhere else."

Tony thought very hard, "Oh! America – I forgot about that…" he thought very hard for the final one, burying his face in his hands, "And all around Europe…?"

Bruce's face exploded into a smile, "You're _finally_ learning!" he chuckled, ruffling Tony's hair, "Nice one. Go and share your new found knowledge with Steve."

"Don't patronise me! You're only three years older than me," Tony pouted childishly. Tony was only just sixteen, while Bruce was nearing nineteen. Bruce had always felt like a big brother around Tony, though Tony always made it very hard to be the little-brother type image Bruce wanted from him. If you could get Tony's constant flow of narcissism and patriotic comments about America to stop, then you could actually have a pretty decent conversation with him. Though getting Tony to shut up about himself or his home back in America was about as hard as telling the leaders of France and England to settle their differences with a game of rock paper scissors.

Bruce smiled to himself, hearing Tony's ramblings about what he'd learnt about the world to Steve. Before Bruce had finished putting away the easel which he'd drawn a very rough drawing of the world on (which, he had to admit, just looked like a series of randomly placed blobs) Steve had poked his head under deck.

"There's been a change in wind, Brucie," Steve warned, "Seems we're heading East just below Africa," he shrugged, "We could use it to our advantage and re-stock up in Australia?"

Bruce winced a little, "Bit risky, don't you think? That means passing by India…"

"Well, what's life without a little risk? Plus Tony's been itching to stab someone ever since I showed him that new sword technique…" Steve mused.

The two heard Tony calling, "I was the one that taught it to _you_, Steve!"

Chuckling at Tony's childish behaviour, Bruce scratched his forehead, "Fine, fine, just be _careful_, not only have we got to avoid the stupid war we have to be weary of God damn pirates."

"Bruce, we _are_ pirates."

"Yeah, but at least we attack people for a reason! We're… nice pirates?" Bruce cringed at his own words, "Point taken."

"And anyway, you're mental when you get pissed – we'll be fine!" Steve grinned patting Bruce's shoulder before jumping above deck. Bruce rolled his eyes at Steve's words; Steve knew very well that Bruce had anger issues. Actually quite a few times he'd been accused of being a Viking Berserker. Berserkers were as dangerous as they sounded; according to ancient Norse they'd been extremely dangerous warriors, who fought like there was no tomorrow, and once they got pissed off then you were literally dead. Bruce did admit that he had some anger issues, but he didn't really want to go into 'trace-like rages' whenever he got a little angry.

He was currently travelling on the 'Great Ship Freedom' originally named by patriotic Americans Tony and Steve. Bruce had never actually _planned _to become a sailor _or_ a pirate. He didn't really like the sea. He'd ended up on the ship as Steve had _threatened_ him, as lovely as it sounded. Steve, captain of the ship, had been in great need of someone with at least _some_ medical qualifications, and seeing as Bruce was one of the first people he'd found while raiding a military base, Bruce was to become his crew's doctor. Or die. His choice. Unluckily for Steve, most of his crew had been rumbled by the military and hanged for piracy.

Now the crew consisted of Steve, Bruce, Tony and a few other men along with two young girls that Tony had brought along with him, Jane Foster and Pepper Potts, two very charming young ladies that had been corrupted by the pirate ways of life, and were now no more dignified than any other men on the ship. Bruce did worry for Jane and Pepper's safety, after all, the girls were barely fifteen, and were around sexually-deprived men aged eighteen plus every day – anything could happen, really. Though, Tony and a few other members of the crew had found out the hard way that the girls kept pocket knives in their undergarments.

Oh the life of a pirate, Bruce complained to himself, though he did like the fact that they got to wear big long fancy coats. They were a perk to living an illegal life.

* * *

One of the biggest ships in all of the seven seas was the legendary ship SHIELD. No one was entirely who'd given the ship it's odd name, or why, but they knew that if they saw that combination of six letters and that if you were pissing someone on the ship off, you'd be as good as dead.

Luckily, the crew of the SHIELD didn't like being seen, so they generally sailed the cold seas of the North Atlantic Ocean, sailing around the very north of Scotland, Scandinavia and the west of Russia. Not too many people knew _why_, even some members of their ship didn't really know. Though everyone on every ocean knew that the Captain Fury, the twelfth captain of the SHIELD, was one person you definitely didn't want to get on the wrong side of. He was powerful, yes, he was scary, yes, and he was ruthless, big yes. But the scariest thing about Fury was that he had connections. _Lots _of them.

To become a member of his crew was a very hard thing to do. Not a lot of people actually intended to be members of Fury's crew; actually most of his crew had been recruited or kidnapped. The four most important members of his crew were first mate, Natalia Romanova. She didn't look too dangerous, but if people saw how many pistols she carried with her, then no one would dare come near her. There was the lookout, Clint Barton, who had been nicknamed 'Hawk', as his eyesight was scarily accurate. He wasn't the most sociable being, as he was more often than not up in the crow's nest, looking at the frozen landscape of the icy seas around them. Then there was Phil Coulson and Maria Hill, not as dangerous as Clint and Natalia, but still a deadly duo. There were numerous other members of Fury's crew, though they didn't even come close to the power his 'inner circle' had, so really at the moment, Fury didn't really pay much attention to them.

Fury had bigger fish to fry. The man had his eye on two ships that had caught his interest; the oddly named ship, Freedom, with their captain Steve Rogers, and the Skidbladnir, captained by Loki and Thor, the two brothers. Though these two ships didn't have the best swordsmen on, Fury did recognise that, perhaps, with a bit of training, the crews of the two ships could be exactly what his ship needed.

Well, only time would tell, of course. Fury sighed to himself, downing his rum. The world really was in a ruin at the moment. Hopefully the many wars would be over soon. Peace would _have_ to come soon, surely?

If peace wasn't going to come naturally, Fury thought, then he may just have to force it to come a little quicker.

**A/N**

**So hey! Thank you for reading first of all! :D I hope you enjoyed, and before I say anything else, I would ask you that, if you did enjoy, then I would love you so much if you did review/fave/follow. Support just shows me if people like the stuff I write~ and of course, it'd be pointless writing a fic if no one reads it, so if you want more – then tell me! XD  
A few people might know me for writing my Hetalia fic 'the World Inside a Castle' (hello again if you've read that!) And I'm currently writing the sequel for it, 'Things change. Get over it.' If you are reading that, then _don't worry!_ This fic won't interfere with my other one ^^ hopefully I can write them at parallels ^^ that is, if you guys like this fic!  
So thank you very much for reading! :D A little review makes my world spin!  
Over and out!**


	2. Strangers

**Chapter two – Strangers**

"Tony, get over here a minute." Steve called, beckoning Tony over to where he stood. The perky teen snapped his head up at Steve's call, and jumped up off the barrel he was sitting on to stand by Steve's side.

"What?" he asked, curious as to why his cloud-watching had been interrupted.

Steve smiled a little, "See that big thing in the distance?"

Tony squinted, and sure enough, on the horizon, far, far away was a long clump of black, "Yeah?"

"That's Africa." Steve pointed, shielding his gaze from the low sun, "One big country… It seems so close, right?"

"Yeah, I guess… Why're you telling me this, though?" Tony cocked an eyebrow, returning to his seat on the barrel, nodding at Bruce, who'd emerged from the hull of the ship, drinking from a bottle. Tony wasn't quite sure if the liquid was alcoholic – Bruce got pretty wild when he was drunk.

Steve interrupted Tony's thoughts, "I'm telling you because you need to learn to navigate for yourself! If I gave you a map and a compass and told you to take us to a destination, there's no _way_ you'd be able to do it."

"And I don't need to, because I have you to do it for me." Tony answered flatly.

Steve glared at Tony's attitude, having half a mind to go and get one of his many riding crops and beat the cocky teen senseless. Luckily for Tony, Bruce's look of '_you can't blame him – he's young'_ saved him, as Steve knew Bruce was right – he'd been in Tony's shoes once; too big for the world, obviously always being right, and _the_ most important person in existence.

The top deck was unusually silent; the rest of the crew was below deck getting drunk and playing cards and doing other pirate-y things. Bruce never really joined in with sociable things; he liked to sit and watch the sky and the sea, thinking about the things he was missing back home and depressing himself about it. Steve, being captain, took it upon himself to man the ship at all times. Most other captains just left the job up to their underlings and spent their time passed-out on the floor and waking up with a mind-destroying hangover. Not Steve; he was responsible, civilized, and just generally a nice guy. He used to be in the military, hence his organised, unusual attitude, though for 'unknown reasons' he'd turned against his peers and commanders and quite happily turned to the life of piracy, taking Tony along with him. Or more Tony _tagging along_ and refusing to stay where he was.

Tony wasn't _allowed_ to join in with the drunken parties below decks. He had once or twice, and had slept for two days solid after it. Steve _wasn't _having that, thank you very much. Tony had been forbidden to even look at any alcoholic drinks, let alone get wasted. As for Jane and Pepper, well, Steve had attempted to control them, but they'd just swore at him, slurring at him to _'go the fuck away'_, and with that, and a poke or two from their daggers, Steve let Jane and Pepper drink their livers out.

"Where're we headed, captain?" Bruce yawned, idly tossing a telescope around.

"Pay attention, Bruce – I told you that before," Steve narrowed his eyes, but lightened up a little with a slight smile, "Australia."

"Why there?"

"Because there's easy trade – they all speak English for a start. Remember what happened with those French merchants we tried buying from? We ended up buying the complete wrong supplies because of language differences. Or they just gave us the wrong stuff on purpose. But yeah, it's one of the closest destinations, and there'll be little or no confusion. Then I guess we could head over to America…?"

Tony's face lit up, "Yes! We can go and kill some British!"

Bruce frowned, "I know you aren't particular fond of the Brits, Tony, but really? You don't have to kill every single one you meet. What's with the grudge, anyway? I never really did find out your reason…"

"They colonised us!" Tony pouted, "America was a free country, until they came to take over. They should just stick to their own continent and mind their own business. Not only that, but my parents got manhandled pretty badly by some British soldiers. They tried to rebel," he shrugged, "They wanted to stand up for what was right, and the British decided that any means of rebellion wasn't going to be tolerated."

Bruce winced a little, "Still… to hate a whole _country_… Maybe you just need to meet a nice Englishman to change your mind?"

"Not possible. They don't exist." Tony insisted, turning up his nose.

"Tony don't be so shallow minded. Go and get me a map of the East. It'll be in my chest in my cabin." Steve interjected, rolling his eyes.

Bruce smiled a little as Tony rolled off his barrel to go and fetch the desired map.

"I've been thinking, Bruce…" Steve muttered once Tony was out of earshot, "We're pirates. Maybe we should actually start acting like them. I mean at this rate we're going to be the laughing stock of the entire ocean. So… I reckon, the next ship we see… we should raid it? As long as it doesn't look like too much of a powerful ship, y'know. We wouldn't want to get _too_ beat up, what with Tony being so excitable."

"Ah, I was wondering why you waited until he was out of earshot…" Bruce chuckled, "I think that's a good idea. You can leave me out, though."

Steve raised an eyebrow, "And why would I do that?"

"Because I don't want to kill anyone, and I'm really not the kind of person to go around stealing things."

Steve frowned, "Fine, fine, whatever you want. But if I call you – then you'll come running with a sword in your hand, understood?"

"Crystal clear, captain." Bruce said nonchalantly, not breaking the challenging gaze he held with Steve, not wanting to look like he was backing down.

"Good." Steve nodded, "Now go and get some sleep. I'll send Tony down in a minute."

Night, captain," Bruce tipped his head, motioning a little wave before heading below deck.

Tony then emerged with a huge scroll in his arms, "Is this the one you wanted, captain?"

Steve took the map and without even looking at it nodded, "Yeah, thanks Tony. Go and get some sleep. Pop your head into the idiots and tell them to keep the noise down and not to use up our entire alcohol supply."

"Sure thing, captain."

"And Tony," Steve called Tony back, "No flirting with Pepper."

Tony pouted, but then replaced the pout with a grin, "Why, you jealous, captain?"

"Not at all, I'm just concerned for your life. Last time you tried to kiss her you found a dagger to your neck, did you not?"

"Ah. You have a point." Tony cringed at the memory, "Night captain."

"Night Tony."

* * *

Back on the Skidbladnir, things weren't as calm and peaceful as they could be. Think engaged and panicking and you should get the general picture of what life on their ship was like at the current moment.

Loki was just coming above deck to see what his brother was making such a fuss about, grumbling a little to himself just because he liked moaning when it was about Thor. Then, as the youngest brother climbed further and reached the top deck, he realised that Thor's worry was, for once, called for.

"Ah shit." Loki concluded staring out at the ocean, and then spinning around to look at the sea from all angles around the ship. He _really_ wished he hadn't, as it just made his heart sink that little bit further.

For someone who wasn't as tuned in as Loki, they might've wondered what there was to swear about. Not too far away in south-west – the direction they were heading – was a little collection of boats. If you turned one hundred and eighty degrees, in the north-east you'd see an identical little fleet of ships, and the same for facing south-east and north-west. Normally this wouldn't have been much of a problem for Loki and his brother – they could just sail right past, and pretend to look menacing just in case. That usually worked, after all. But this time, it was the flags proudly strapped to every single one of the ships that placed doubt in the brother's hearts.

The flag in question was infamous as of recent. Sky blue with splatters of red blood, with the silhouette of a snake entwined around a cutlass - it was quite an unnerving flag, especially when you knew the people affiliated with it. As Loki had predicted – there was a chance of them turning into the meat on dinner plates of cannibals. Though it was very unlikely that _any_ pirate ate off a plate.

"What're we going to _do?"_ Thor ran over to Loki's side, panicking.

Loki smirked, "Well, _you're _the captain. Surely our great Thor can think of a way to get us out of this mess?"

Thor growled a little under his breath, "Brother, this is not the time to be joking around!"

"Oh brother, I can assure you I'm not joking."

"We _both_ know that you're the thinker out of us two! I'm no good with think-y stuff!" Thor pleaded.

"I think you've proved that…" Loki muttered a little, "Fine. But I get double rations."

"For how long?"

"A month."

Thor narrowed his eyes, "Two weeks."

"Three."

"Done. Now _get us out of here." _Thor roughly shook his brother's hand and quickly retreated back into his cabin where he couldn't see the oncoming ships.

Loki went over to the side of the ship, perching on the side of it, steadying himself with a hand so as not to fall off into the water. The Indian ships probably hadn't realised that their ship was their yet – or they definitely weren't deliberately threatening it either. It was probably just a meeting of all the smaller Indian ships, that had grown from a little fleet of ships into something little less than an _army_, and the Skidbladnir just happened to get caught up in it all. Loki decided they probably had two options – sail like nothing was going on and risk getting raided and attacked by the pirates or try and find a way out of the situation. The first was probably most likely in the current situation, as no ways to get out off this mess were occurring to Loki.

"Right – Fandral, climb up the mast and take down our flag. We want to keep a low profile. Then, all of you," he addressed the rest of the crew, "Go and find items that are most valuable to you – and I mean _of up most importance –_ one or two at the very most. Go and hide them or just protect them in some way – _swallow_ them if you wish, I really don't care. Once that's taken care of, go below deck and hide yourselves. Don't come out for _anything_. Well, unless you're about to get stabbed to death. I'd tell you to use your brains, but you really don't _have_ any. Sif, look after the idiots while I talk to my brother."

Sif nodded stiffly, glaring at Loki as he turned swiftly, his long coat swishing about his ankles, walking confidently over to his brother's chambers. Knocking once and then barging in, Loki repeated the instructions to Thor.

"So what, we're just going to hide like cowards?" Thor frowned.

"There's not much else we can do unless you want to get beaten to death!" Loki spat with frustration, "We'll pretend it's a deserted ship. Granted, that's probably not going to stop them from climbing on board and exploring a little, but at least we'll escape with our lives. I'm not letting you out of my sight – the last thing we need if for you to make a surprise attack and get us all killed. So get your items, hide the little treasure that's left, and hurry up and hide with me."

"I don't like this." Thor muttered.

"I gathered," Loki growled in reply, frustrated, "Thor, the time will come that you will be able to kill people for their money or whatever you lust to do. You just need to learn to fight first! Don't dance before you can stand."

"Fine…" Thor said flatly, and grabbed a few items he kept on his desk, holding them close. There was a little sack full of gold coins – their only money on the entire ship, a valuable locket – the first thing Thor had stolen from his mother. His mother had known of course, and congratulated Thor on his cunning skill, and told him he could keep the locket as a reward. And finally two little scrolls, each bound together with heavily embroidered ribbon.

"I said two things at most. You have four. Put the scrolls back." Loki yawned, emphasising his boredom.

"Nope. I'm the captain, I decide what I do. These scrolls are precious."

"Lets see what's so 'precious' about them, then," Loki held out his hand lazily, successfully looking casual about things. If he was honest the curiosity was killing him – what was on those scrolls? Thor hated reading usually.

Thor narrowed his eyes a little, and shook his head, holding the scrolls closer to his body, "No! Don't be so nosey!"

"It's my job to be nosy. If I wasn't nosy then you'd have gotten yourself killed god knows how many times," Loki sighed, "I just want to know what's so important about them!"

Thor blushed a little. Loki blinked a few times – Thor. _Blushing?_ Thor didn't _blush!_ "No! It's embarrassing."

"What's so embarrassing about two pieces of paper?"

"It just _is_."

Loki rolled his eyes, giving up, "Fine, do what you want. Come on – I don't fancy getting killed just yet. We need to find somewhere to hide."

Nodding, Thor followed Loki out of the room, sticking close to his brother. Once they got outside, the flag had been torn down – what Fandral had done with it Loki didn't know, and didn't want to know either. Everything was deserted, and a few barrels and chests had even been turned over for good measure. The ship looked more than a little lonely.

* * *

Thor and Loki hid themselves quickly enough. It was quite an effective hiding place, too. Of course they'd avoided big chests or closets – they were a dead giveaway. The two had crept to the very depths of the hull, so deep that they could see crabs and other creatures that probably shouldn't be there. The two had taken six large crates and built a little wall around them, giving them enough room to sit in the corner, limbs bunched up. They didn't just stop at that, however. Thor climbed out quickly and got yet another crate that was a little longer than the others. Climbing back inside the little fort, he placed the larger crate on top of the gap that he'd climbed through, acting as a roof.

"They'll never find us here." Thor concluded happily.

Thor's conclusion was soon to be tested. Now the waiting game was on.

It felt like hours had passed before the two heard a noise. Loki was beginning to think that the pirates might actually let them get on with their lives, and just let a deserted ship float away on its own. Of course he'd been wrong.

There were noises above deck, the sound of shouting voices, and feet running about. They were obviously looking around on the top deck for anything worth taking. There was a particularly loud cry of triumph – they must've found the captain's cabin had been left open. It seemed stupid, but Loki had left every door unlocked. His reasons? Well if they were locked, the doors would most likely be hacked down with an axe, and not only would doors be a pain to replace, but what if some of the crew happened to be hiding on the other side? They'd get ripped to pieces along with the door.

Thor sighed heavily, mourning the tidiness and gold, sparkly feel of his cabin.

"Oh don't be so melodramatic," Loki rolled his eyes, speaking under his breath.

"I can't help it – that's all father's stuff there, and we're just letting them sail away with it!" Thor shook his head, changing the subject, "What objects did you keep?"

"I don't place sentiment in inanimate objects," Loki answered flatly.

"You didn't keep anything?" Thor asked.

"No I didn't. Do you have a problem with that?"

"N-no… I was just wondering _why_… I mean, don't you want to keep _something?_ A memory of mother or father?"

Loki shrugged, "My memories stay in my head. I don't need objects to remind me of them."

"Suit yourself…"

The two shut up after that, hearing footsteps getting louder and louder – obviously the invaders of their ship had found the ladder down to below the deck. There were more shouts of glee as they found more items. Loki had a sudden rush of bloodlust that these random thieves were coming and destroying their _home_ effectively. But he knew they'd never be able to do anything about it. There was no need to die today, after all.

There was an ominous sound of a door creaking open. Thor and Loki froze instantly, knowing just which door had just been opened – the door right into the hull – the room they'd chosen to hide in. Loki turned to Thor, brining his finger up to his lips, motioning for silence. The two tried to control their breathing and keep it as quiet as possible – something Thor wasn't too good at.

Footsteps. There sounded like there was only one man looking around here. They got closer and closer to the crates. Closer still, closer. The two flinched, as, in between a slight gap in the crates they could see a pair of hairy legs, standing just outside their makeshift fort. There were weird noises from above, and the pair realised that the man was looking at the crates, probably deciding whether he should open them or not. Luckily for the boys, they had a little backup plan. For once in his life, Thor'd had a brilliant idea. He'd filled the crates with rocks (what they were doing at the bottom of the ship, neither knew) but on top of the rocks, fabric. So if anyone attempted to lift the crates down, they'd probably have a bit of a shock at the weight, hopefully giving the two enough time to escape.

The man was just about to walk away when another pair of footsteps joined him. There was some talking that neither could understand – it was in a different language, after all – and before long, the pair of hair legs returned between the crack, only this time, there were two pairs of hair legs.

Thor and Loki waited with bated breath, begging the men to just turn around and leave.

Of course no such thing happened.

Before they knew it, light flooded into their fortress of crates as the two men lifted up the crates. Somehow, they seemed to know about the rocks, as the extra weight didn't seem to be affecting them in the slightest. Perhaps the first man had checked underneath the fabric. Neither had noticed Thor and Loki, curled at the bottom of the crates. Hopefully it'd stay that way.

Not for long.

With a cry of surprise, one of the men frantically pointed at Thor and Loki, peering through the gap in the crates. Both men looked at each other, and shoved the other crates aside, completely exposing the brothers.

"Shit." Loki muttered, backing up as far as he could before crashing into the side of the ship.

The men exchanged glances, "English…" was all Loki caught in their conversation.

After a seemingly heated discussion between the two men, they turned towards Thor and Loki with a rather creepy look on their faces. Out of their belts they pulled two extremely sharp looking cutlasses, and pointed them at Thor and Loki's throats.

The first man grinned toothily at Thor, "Give." He pointed at the items in Thor's grasp, "Or pain."

Thor shook his head, "Piss off," he snarled.

The men seemed to understand that this was a negative response, so exchanging a glance, the man holding a cutlass to Loki's throat grinned sadistically, and nudged the end of the cutlass across Loki's cheek, leaving behind it a thin line of ruby red blood.

Thor blinked, realising just what was going on. If he didn't give them the items, they'd kill Loki. Oh that was unfair, the though to himself. Gritting his teeth, he held up the items, "We give you these, and you go?" he pointed at the door for good measure.

The men nodded, "We go and harm no one."

Nodding curtly, Thor thrust the locket, the scrolls and the little bag of money across the room, as far away as he could. The two men scuttled after it like little rats, greedily inspecting the items. They happily pocketed the locket, along with the little bag of coins. They inspected the scrolls, but quickly discarded them – they had no need for mere _paper_.

"Now go." Thor commanded, pointing at the door again.

Both men laughed, "You fool for trusting pirates." With that, they began walking slowly closer to Thor and Loki again, "Go on – _run_."

Swearing heatedly, Loki sprung up to his feet, dragging Thor along with him as they ran out of the hull.

"Those bastards! They double crossed me!" Thor growled, gritting his teeth.

"Of course they did – they're pirates!" Loki spat frustrated, "Now we need to find the others to make sure they're okay!"

Sadly, the Skidbladnir was quite a small ship, and once they'd run out of the hull, they were already in the main part of the below deck. That meant they were faced with three more pirates. All of them looked up from whatever item they were in the middle of destroying, and each shared the same sick grin the pirate who'd cut Loki from before had had plastered all over his face. These people were _real_ pirates.

From behind them, the two pirates from the hull appeared, surrounding Loki and Thor in a circle of armed and dangerous pirates, both of them completely defenceless. Thor had hidden his sword in a chest before, and now the two of them only had their fists and the odd spark Loki could conjure from his finger.

"Volstagg!" Thor called out, "Fandral! Hougan! Sif! If you can hear me then I demand you come out and help us!"

No response.

"We not _kill_ you…" one of the pirates said with a toothy smirk, "We just play a bit… Like _this."_

And with that, he punched Thor right in the nose, cackling at the satisfying noise of surprise Thor made at the shock of the blow.

"Get off my brother." Loki muttered lowly in a rare moment of protection for his brother.

"Oh – you want hurt too?" another man asked, bringing out a little dagger, "Good, good! I like giving hurt."

Before long, each of the pirates had their chance to manhandle Thor and Loki however they wished, both boys covered in bruises and cuts. The brothers helped each other to their feet after a particularly nasty blow, and even sometimes tried to counter-attack the pirate's attacks. That always ended badly, though, and the two soon learned that resistance was futile.

About halfway through, Sif, Volstagg, Fandral and Hougan decided to show their faces, followed by two more Indian pirates. That meant the entire population of the boat was down below the deck, playing 'who can hurt the Western pirates the most?' Sif managed to get in a few punches on the pirates, making them usher the same, satisfying noises of surprise that Thor'd made from before. But ultimately, the crew of teenagers were easily defeated, all left lying on the deck of their own ship, battered, bruised and hurting all over. Every item of value had been taken from the ship – every gold coin and every scrap of food. Hell, even their _flag_ had been taken.

"That was officially the worst say so far…" Thor muttered with a groan, holding his head.

"Come here…" Loki reached down to his clothes – they'd taken his coat and hat, about the only two things he actually liked about pirate life – and ripped off the arm of his shit, and dabbed at some of Thor's wounds, the white material soaking up the blood.

The six of them all did the same, and before long, everyone was dabbing at each other's wounds with parts of clothing, trying to clean up the blood and tend to wounds.

Loki shook his head, "Why didn't they kill us?"

"Apparently there's a lot of pirates that prefer to see people suffer," Sif shrugged, "And I've also heard some just take your money and go. I bet they were the ones that liked watching people suffer."

"I think you're right there…" Thor muttered, sighing, "I think we should all get some sleep, don't you think?"

Everyone nodded, climbing to their feet shakily and heading below deck to go and find anything soft that'd been left. That left them with five empty potato sacks and one large white sheet.

"You go ahead without me; I just want to see something…" Loki muttered, leaving before anyone could ask anything else. He wondered down to the hull, where he and Thor had hidden behind the crates earlier that day. Loki reached down, and found what he'd been wanting to see for a while now – the two scrolls Thor had been so fond of. They were a little crumpled, and lay on the floor of the ship, half coiled-up. The men had even taken the heavily-emboridered ribbons they'd been tied up with.

Picking them up, Loki looked at what secrets the parchment held. With a jolt of shock, Loki found that on the scrolls wasn't secrets or words, directions, or anything like that. There were two pictures that Loki recognised to be _his own_. He'd always been quite fond of art and painting before he'd set off on the seas with his brother, and in his teens, he'd done portraits of the entire family. On these scrolls were two paintings he'd given to Thor – one with a picture of their entire family, their mother and father, Frigga and Odin, hugging a smaller, younger pair of Thor and Loki. All four looked indescribably happy in the picture. Loki couldn't even remember paining them…

The other picture is what made a little bubble of happiness emerge in his stomach. It was just a picture of a teenage Thor and a teenage Loki – just sitting down, not doing a lot. Loki remembered painting this one – he remembered it being one of the pictures that he'd feel proud of forever. Even looking at it now he could see little fault. It made him smile that Thor still cared about his family, though sometimes he really didn't show it. Now Loki realised why Thor'd blushed! He'd been embarrassed to be seen as a sentimental man at his age.

Chuckling, Loki set the scrolls down on the floor where he'd found them. If he knew Thor – and he knew Thor – his brother would most likely come down here in the morning looking for them, and Loki didn't want to let on that he'd seen the insides of the scrolls. Closing the door to the hull, Loki headed back to the chamber everyone was using as a temporary bedroom. For some reason, even though today had been _the_ worst day of his life, he was falling asleep a lot more jubilant than usual.

**A/N**

**I'm sorry this took a while XD I was stuck and ended up re-writing it ¬.¬ that was annoying XD also, I decided to re-star my Phoenix Wright games, which was a BIG mistake, as now rather than spending my free time writing, I'm clicking away at my DS XD  
Thank you if you reviewed/followed/faved on the last chapter ^^ it's greatly appreciated! :D /hugs/  
As for pairings…. Still not really sure? XD I'm thinking about Stony or some Science Bros love XD or maybe even both :o and some FrostIron? Thorki? /shrugs/ I don't know XD what do you want to see? Tell me! :D  
Hopefully the next chapter'll be up soon. But I can't promise anything XD there's Doctor Who soon, and school right after that /sigh XD  
Over and out, amigos XD**


	3. Unwanted Visitors

**Chapter three – Unwanted Visitors**

Back on the ship of American Patriots, everything was calm. Steve found himself just nodding off as the sun rose – he'd been keeping watch of the wheel all night. Seagulls and numerous other nameless birds flew in the pale-orange sky as the light from the celestial body flooded in past the horizon, causing the captain to wince at its brightness, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes. Yawning loudly, Steve rubbed his eyes, resting his chin on the wheel.

It wasn't long before there was noise below deck – the others were waking up. Steve's peace was soon to be destroyed by his rowdy crew members. Tony was especially loud, even very early in the morning.

Speak of the devil – none other than that very sixteen year old swaggered up on the deck, flashing his canines. It was obvious he'd just woken up – he was wearing his oversized, dirt-covered shirt he wore for bed with loose cotton trousers covering his legs, and his hair was sticking up in every direction imaginable.

"'Mornin'," he said, nodding at Steve while taking a bite out of a biscuit, only to spit it back out again complaining about bugs.

"How many times have I told you? You need to tap it to get rid of all the maggots before you eat it! Don't waste food like that…" Steve lectured, rolling his eyes at Tony, who was frantically scratching at his tongue, attempting to get rid of any maggots that might be hanging out near his tonsils.

Tony ignored Steve's lectured, "Get them out for me?" he asked, his mouth wide open, so the words came out almost inaudible. Steve stared blankly at Tony, obviously clueless as to what he was to do. Tony rolled his eyes, and took Steve's hand, shoving it inside his own mouth. Steve recoiled at the sudden action, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Can you get any maggots I missed?" Tony repeated around Steve's hand, the vibrations making Steve want to giggle in surprise. But, if he ever 'giggled' in front of Tony, or did anything that feminine for that matter, then the younger boy would never let his captain live it down.

"Fine, fine," Steve said, scowling, removing his hand so he could have a good look around Tony's mouth for bugs. Soon a little collection of about five of the squirming bus had been thrown overboard.

Steve clapped his hands together, rubbing them off on his legs, "You're clear."

"Thanks, Steve!" Tony grinned, and then stopped, smile fading, "Kiss it to make it better?" he batted his eyelashes, deliberately looking as young and innocent as he possibly could. He _loved_ winding Steve, up, and this was generally on of the funniest and easiest ways.

Sure enough, Steve took a step back, turning bright red, "W-What!?"

"Please? Just a _liiiittle _kiss," Tony followed Steve, until he was backed up on the edge of the ship – the next step back being into the water, "Pretty please?"

"But _why?"_ he said, bewildered.

"Because I wuv you!" Tony flung his arms around his captain, and soon couldn't help but burst into fits of giggles, returning to his usual obnoxious self, "Oh my God your _face!_ I cannot believe you took me _seriously!_ You looked about ready to jump overboard!"

Steve frowned, glaring down at the cackling teenager. The amount of times he'd fallen for this same trick was unreal – he just didn't learn! Every _single_ time, he ended up getting all bashful and flustered, believing Tony was about to lean down and kiss him. However, when the moment arrived for the kiss to come, Tony would always crack the joke, and not stop rolling around on the deck for what felt like hours.

"Get up you good for nothing twerp…" Steve muttered half heartedly, pulling Tony roughly up by his arm, "It's your turn to navigate. Get us lost, I throw you overboard."

"Why, where're you going?" Tony tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

"Sleeping. I'll need energy to keep up with you and your annoying ways. If Bruce gets up then get him to take over…" Steve said, already heading towards his cabin.

"Well sweet dreams then, my darling Steve!" Tony cackled, blowing kisses in the direction of the captain, who blankly ignored him, slamming his door loudly.

"Jeeze he's in a bad mood…" Tony muttered, yawning, ignoring the fact that it was his job to stand over the wheel. In stead, he decided to climb up the mast, a place where he often liked to sit and recite poetry at the top of his lungs, often confusing other ships passing by.

Just as Tony was mid-way through Sonnet 20 from Shakespeare's collection of one hundred and fifty four of the poems when he heard a voice from below telling him to shut up.

"You'll wake up the neighbours!" Bruce called jokingly from below, "You managed to wake _me_ up. If you have time to recite all one hundred and fifty four of those damn poems then you definitely have time to come down here and man this boat! Get down here!"

"'_But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,__mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.'" _Tony finished, climbing down the mast as he went, bowing when he jumped down beside Bruce, who was shaking his head.

"I wish you'd put more effort into learning how to navigate than learning those poems – what's Shakespeare going to do for you out in the middle of the ocean?" Bruce said, but then lightened his sentence with a laugh, "Come on, I'll even hold the compass for you."

Tony beamed up at Bruce, "Thanks, Bruce!" the teen throw his arms around Bruce, shocking the man a little. Just as Bruce was about to hug Tony back, he yelped with surprise, jumping back. Tony had jabbed him in the side _very hard_, obviously making a notion that he was in the mood for a tickling war.

"You two, I'd appreciate it if you actually tried steering this ship for once rather than flirting on my decks!" the voice of the captain met the ears of Bruce and Tony, both of them flinching and tensing up, turning to see Steve glaring at them from the door of his cabin, "You know, Tony I could understand – but Bruce, really? You're meant to control him, not encourage him!"

Bruce frowned, "I assure you, captain, I wasn't _flirting_."

"Aww, Bruce, you break my heart!" Tony sighed dramatically, though he made no action to hide his mischievous grin.

"Time and place, Tony. Right now you should be navigating!" Steve sighed, shaking his head, "Do I have to do everything around here?"

"Ehh… Captain…" Bruce interrupted, leaning over the side of the ship to get a good look at something he seemed to be watching intently.

"Not now Bruce, go and make me some breakfast, will you?"

"No but really, I think you should come and see this." Bruce pointed out to sea. Steve and Tony walked over – well, Tony ran – to the side of the ship, leaning out to look. Tony let out a whoop of excitement, nearing falling overboard, but was steadied by a hand from both Bruce and Steve, who glared at one another.

"What am I looking at?" Steve asked.

"That blindingly obvious ship that's casually floating past us? The only other thing we've seen for hours?" Tony cried, exasperated, and pointed to the indeed very obvious, almost out-of-place-looking ship that was, as Tony had said, 'causally floating past them'.

"Oh, that." Steve nodded, "And what about it?"

"_You _promised," Tony began childishly, before being interrupted by Bruce.

"Didn't you say that the next ship we saw, we should raid it?" Bruce smiled all-too-sweetly, Tony nodding along.

"I told you not to tell Tony about that!" Steve sighed, rubbing his temples.

"It just slipped out," Bruce shrugged, and then felt genuinely bad for feeding Tony information, "Sorry, captain, it won't happen again."

"But you said-!" Tony began.

"I said nothing of the sort." Bruce cut across.

Steve looked over at the deserted looking ship, "Well… it definitely doesn't look too dangerous…"

"So we can go!?" Tony's eyes widened in anticipation.

After pausing to think, Steve exchanged glances with Bruce, and then nodded, "Yes, we can go."

Tony leaped up, punching the air in victory, whooping aloud and doing a funny little dance, "_Yes!"_ he cried, "We _Finally_ get to raid a ship! Finally!"

Rolling their eyes, both Bruce and Steve smiled, patting Tony's head patronisingly, though the teen shoved their hands off roughly. "I'll go and wake everyone else up. Bruce, can I trust you to steer the boat up along side that one?"

"Of course, Captain." Bruce nodded, not meeting Steve's eyes, "You should probably get dressed, Tony."

Flashing a jubilant smile, Tony, for once in his life, didn't answer back and ran off below deck, overjoyed that he was _finally_ going to get a chance to show off some of his fancy sword work. Steve nodded to Bruce, heading down after the overexcited teenager.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end as we plan…" Bruce muttered to himself, gently shifting the ship's coarse. Well, only time would tell.

* * *

Half an hour later, Tony was first to climb on to the deserted ship. It was a lot more awkward than he'd anticipated – he very nearly didn't make it across. As soon as he was safely on the foreign deck, he felt the weight shift below his feet, and looked around to see Steve and Bruce, accompanied by Jane, Pepper and one or two of the other crew members. Simon, the oldest member of Steve's crew had been left back on their own ship to make sure it didn't float away in the strong winds.

The sun was now getting a little higher in the sky – to make a random guess, Steve could only assume it was nearing ten o'clock in the morning or so. Surely anyone on this ship should be up and about right now, ordering people around and generally getting along with their hectic lives.

"Maybe they had a rough night?" Bruce muttered aloud, almost in answer to Steve's thoughts.

"Well if they can't recover from a little rum then they're nothing worth stealing from," Pepper spat on the floor, glaring at Tony when he winked at her.

"That's my point – maybe their 'rough night' wasn't just a little alcohol and some card games. Maybe someone beat us to the stealing part…" Bruce strode around the deck, running his fingers across surfaces of wood.

"He has a point…" Steve muttered, "This place is deserted. Not only that, but there's not even any sign of life – it's like they've just moved out and left an empty ship behind them, but you can't just _move out_ of a ship, can you?"

"Then what happened…?" Bruce narrowed his eyes, checking inside crates and barrels, only to find every single one of them empty.

"Typical! My first raid in months, _and there's nothing to raid_." Tony threw up his arms in frustration, and seemed to forget that he was holding his sword in one hand, and very nearly sliced Jane's arm off, which was a notion the girl didn't appreciate.

"Oi, Stark, watch what you're doing with your sword, and stop complaining! If you think you're so _fuc-_"

"That's quite enough of that, thank you," Bruce cut across, "A young lady of your age should not be using foul language like that."

"Oh for _fucks sake_" Bruce glared at her, so she corrected herself, "For _God's sake_ – we're pirates! Or we're _meant_ to be, but you and Steve seem more cut out for the navy than a life of crime, bloodshed, alcohol and sex!" Jane said, exasperated, but with a glare from both Steve and Bruce, she shut up.

"Anyway, if we could return to the matter at hand, please…" Steve muttered, copying Bruce by looking in barrels and crates for anything that could be of any value. There wasn't even anything that could hold no value at all, in fact. The ship, as previously stated, was completely empty.

"I'll check through here, Pepper if you'd like to accompany me." Steve jolted a finger towards what they could only assume to be the captain's cabin, "You check below deck. And try to keep it down – you never know, there could be some people on this boat ready to jump out and slit our throats."

"Well at least that'd be a little more exciting than no one at all…" Tony grumbled, but grudgingly followed the rest down the little rope ladder that led to the inner corridors of the boat.

* * *

Half an hour later, the boat had been searched thoroughly. Steve called everyone up to the top deck to discuss what they'd found.

Tony had found a single rotting potato, Bruce had two scrolls both with different sketches on, Steve and Pepper had found an earring in the captain's cabin they'd searched, and Jane had a little handful of ripped up maps.

"I think we can safely assume that this place is _empty_," Tony sighed dramatically, throwing the rotting potato as far as he could, landing with a satisfying little 'splash' in the ocean a little way off the boat.

"Hate to say it, but Stark's right," Jane shrugged, throwing away her little scraps of map, so the parchment fluttered around the group like confetti.

"Well that was a productive morning…" Steve muttered, pocketing the single earring, "Brilliant. Let's go."

Just as everyone was making their way back on to their own ship, Bruce paused, tensing like a rabbit that'd heard a fox. He held up his hand, signalling for everyone to wait, and holding a finger to his mouth, he listened.

"What, Bruce?" Steve asked, "Hurry up, will you?"

"I heard something, though…" Bruce muttered, listening again, "Can't you hear that? Footsteps."

Sure enough, when they all shut up, there was a very slight sound of someone walking around below deck.

"So much for deserted!" Tony whooped, punching the air, "A ghost ship!"

"Oh shut up, will you? Ghosts don't exist – you should know that… there must be someone here… But who?" Bruce narrowed his eyes, "Wait here, I'm going to look."

Everyone nodded, watching as Bruce slowly began climbing down the little rope ladder. No one bothered to stop Tony who ran after him, and then Steve who followed worriedly after the two.

Once below deck, Bruce glared up two his followers, "I said I was going alone."

"D'ya really think we'd let you have all the action, Brucey?" Tony winked, "I just want a look!"

"And I followed because…" Steve said, shifting his eyes, "I was worried."

"Pirates aren't meant to _worry_…" Bruce muttered.

"I think by now we can safely say that we're not your average pirates…" Steve said in reply.

The three shut up immediately when they hear footsteps again, now a little louder, and with every step getting louder still. The mysterious person was getting closer.

Bruce made a signal with his hands, telling Tony to go through the door to their left, Steve the door to the right, and Bruce would go through the door right in front of them. He counted down with his fingers from three, and on one, they all lightly pushed down the handle of their designated doors, the hinges creaking threateningly in the silence.

In the rooms that Steve and Bruce opened, there was nothing other than empty crates that had already been checked, but from Tony's hilariously girly shriek of surprise, it seemed he'd found the owner of the footsteps.

Running over, Bruce and Steve looked through the door, and their eyes were met with a petrified-looking teenager, his hands outstretched as if to wade off an attack, eyes squeezed shut, and his legs tensed, ready to run away if needed.

Steve raised an eye at Tony, who was now coughing awkwardly, trying to forget about his scream, "He took me by surprise…" Tony muttered, blushing.

The boy in front of them inched open an eye, seeming to realise that he was in no immediate danger. He frowned at the people in front of him, not too pleased that they were on his ship.

"So, who're you, then?" Tony asked the boy, raising an eyebrow, "I like your interior. It's very… spacious."

Steve glared at Tony, "Don't be an ass. Where did you come from? We searched this place thoroughly and didn't find a soul. How did you get on here?"

"Don't be so arrogant! This is my ship!" the boy snapped, "Well. My brother's, but that's beside the point."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "If you take so much pride in your ship, why were you hiding below deck and letting it float aimlessly, vulnerable to attack?"

"Because we've already _been_ attacked – there's nothing else to loose," the boy sighed. Now he mentioned it, he did look pretty beat up, "There's nothing to take here, just go on your way and leave us alone."

"'Us'? There's more of you?" Steve said, "Where are they?"

The boy cursed under his breath, "I'm not going to tell you that! For all I know, you could be cannibals. I don't want to be eaten right after I've been stolen from and beat up."

Tony pointed to something in the corner of the room, "I bet you anything they're down that little trapdoor."

Steve and Bruce exchanged glances, grinning, "Is he right? Are your friends down there?"

The boy frowned, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because we're going to look anyway," Tony shrugged, yanking the trap door open, and poking his head down it, and then calling up, "Affirmative! There're about five people down here!"

Steve and Bruce smirked, "So, little boy, how about telling us what's been going on?" Steve asked not unkindly.

Bruce then had an idea, and brought out the two scrolls he'd found out of his coat, holding them up, "Do these sketches mean anything to you?"

The boy looked at the scrolls, cursing aloud, "Give those back!" he attempted to jump for them, only to end up wincing in pain – Bruce was too tall, anyway.

"We'll give you them, in return for information," Bruce bargained, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Fine," the boy smirked wryly, "What do you want to know?"

"First of all, your name would be good."

He shrugged, "I'm Loki Laufeyson."

**A/N**

**Hooray for infrequent updates? X'D I've been pretty busy just getting back into things with school and all X'D I can't promise anything frequent with this fic XD  
I did intent to write a little more – but then I realised the time, and I just wanted to upload this before I went out XD so I hope you enjoyed! If you did, then feedback is the equivalent to love! Thank you if you've reviewed/faved/followed in the past, and if you haven't, I hope you do now XD  
Thank you, guys ^^**


End file.
